Crabbe and Goyle Unleashed!
by NaughtyTautology
Summary: Crabbe and Goyle: wildly out of character and loving every minute of it! When Malfoy injures himself and is laid up in the hospital wing, his two friends are left to prank, matchmake, and raid the kitchen by themselves. bit of DMPP
1. Red or Green?

  
  
Contrary to popular belief, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were not dumb cinder blocks created only for the purpose of serving Draco Malfoy. They were simply a bit lazy, and found it easier to follow him around and leech off his good luck; their destiny as loyal Death Eaters was secure, and they were in no rush to work too hard at school. It was a comfortable situation; they were feared (if not respected) by all students, and Malfoy wasn't so bad when it was just the three of them. Besides, Malfoy could never finish all his food, which meant leftovers for Crabbe and Goyle. And they did love to eat..  
Unfortunately, their lazy felicity was soon to be disturbed by a potions class mishap that would, according to Goyle, "go down in the annals of great potions disasters... Or maybe not." But it was enough to break up the Malfoy-Crabbe-Goyle trio, and that was all the disaster they needed.  
  
Double potions with Gryffindor was always good entertainment, because Professor Snape was quite the comedian and Neville Longbottom inevitably blew something up. A typical class was in progress; the trio was working together on the latest potion while Snape stalked around the classroom making snide remarks at the Gryffindors.   
"You have an interesting interpretation of the color 'green,' Longbottom." They could hear him sneer from across the room.   
"Snape's in good form today," announced Goyle.  
"But I see Mr. Potter and you are in a contest to produce the potion furthest removed from the one I assigned," Snape continued imperiously.  
"And they think we're dumb," said Crabbe, stirring the contents of their cauldron.  
"Well you are, but at least you can stir the mixture, unlike those fools," drawled Malfoy. "Pass me the red phial, Goyle."  
"Isn't the green one next?"  
"No." Goyle passed him the red phial. Malfoy opened it and took the stirring stick from Crabbe. "Now I'm supposed to just stir this in - only the delicate hand can really do it.." He poured it in gently, and in return for his care, the potion promptly exploded in his face and began steaming red. "AGHHH!!!!!!!!!!! MY FACE!!!"   
Crabbe, Goyle, and all students in the area ducked as Malfoy stumbled around blindly, clutching at his face. Snape ran over and began cleaning. "What happened!?"  
"They - Ahgh!! - he gave me the wrong one!" Malfoy fainted.  
"Everyone out of the room! And take him to the hospital wing!"  
Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other. Goyle shrugged. "'told him it was the green one."

* * *

"Well, boys, he's going to be out for a good week." Madam Pomfrey did not look pleased at the prospect of keeping Draco Malfoy around for that long.  
"Why so long?" asked Goyle, his pig-like features contorted into a skeptical frown.  
"Burns, my dear, never heal quickly." Malfoy was bandaged from the chest up, arms as well. There were two slits for eyes, but they did not look promising. "But they will heal completely, rest assured."  
"Well, good," Crabbe added. Now what were they to do?  
"I'm thirsty," came a weak voice from the bed. Malfoy had awakened.  
"I'll get him something. You two can keep him company." Pomfrey disappeared around the corner.  
"You've only been here for a half hour and she's already running away," snickered Crabbe.  
"Crabbe, Goyle, is that you?"  
"Yeah," answered Crabbe. Then he grinned and added, "Is that you, Draco?"   
"Very Funny."  
"You look like the invisible man," Crabbe went on.  
"Shut up."  
"She said you're going to be out for a week," added Goyle, still frowning.  
"WHAT - ouch! oh, it hurts!" whined Malfoy.  
"Maybe Goyle will write you a poem," snickered Crabbe.  
"Yes, maybe I will," said Goyle straight-faced. "I have aspirations after literary greatness."  
"I hope you two aren't going to stay here the whole time or I won't get any rest!"  
"Don't worry," said Goyle. "We have to avenge your injury."   
"How are you going to do that? It's your fault!" said Malfoy, then he groaned again for good measure.  
"We can prank the Potter threesome," offered Crabbe.  
"You'll sit in the Slytherin common room and eat all day, that's what you'll do," grumbled Malfoy.  
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged another knowing glance. "That's tempting too," said Crabbe, "But I like pranks."  
"Where's Pomfrey with that drink?" whined Malfoy.  
"She's trying to take your mind off your burns by letting you suffer from dehydration," said Goyle in a serious tone.   
"You fool!"   
"Come on, Goyle, let's go prank the Gryffindors."  
"Ok. "  
"You two do that," said Malfoy resignedly. "Let me suffer in solitude."  
"Don't you mean you won't have long to suffer if she doesn't bring you a drink soon?" prompted Crabbe.  
"Just go!" hissed Malfoy. "But do come visit before the week's up."  
"Ok." With that, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle left their dear friend Malfoy wrapped up like a mummy in the hospital wing, and went out to fend for themselves for the first time in.... well, since either of them could remember being at Hogwarts.

* * *

"This is strange." Crabbe announced after they had walked down the hall in silence for some time.  
"What?"  
"Malfoy's not here. Talking."  
"Yeah, he does talk a lot," answered Goyle, frowning again.  
"And another problem: How are we going to prank Potter and them?"  
"I thought you had it all figured out, Crabbe." Goyle sighed in mock disappointment. They stopped walking, and found themselves in front of a suspicious-looking urn that resided against the wall.  
"Malfoy usually figures these things out," said Crabbe, looking around for an idea. "Hey, was that urn there before?"  
"Much as I enjoy interior design, I can't say that I've noticed either way," said Goyle without the slightest trace of irony.  
"Oh, go on - interior design - hm. What's the point in having an urn if there's nothing in it?" Crabbe walked up to the urn and ran his fingers along the edge. He tapped it experimentally. The Pottery broke out into raucous song.  
_ "What do you do with a drunken wizard/  
What do you do with a drunken wizard/"_  
"Oh no - it's one of those Tap-on Tap-off things - shut it up," said Goyle, covering his ears clumsily.  
Crabbe punched the urn, and it broke apart. Shards of cheap plaster covered the floor around them.  
_ "throw him..ov...er...booaaa.."_  
"Heh."   
"That was unnecessary, Vincent Crabbe," scolded Goyle. He began to walk away from the scene of the crime, and Crabbe followed.  
"Sorry, mum, but I'm hungry. Hey- let's raid the kitchen first. Then we can prank."  
"Well.. I'm thinking about going on a diet...." started Goyle.   
"No-"  
"Heh-"  
"Stupid. Come on," Crabbe took the lead.  
"This is going to be interesting without Malfoy," said Goyle.   
  
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of Crabbe and Goyle Unleashed! Will our heros honor their promise to visit the invalid Malfoy and write him a poem? Will they be successful in their plans to raid the kitchen or will they be thwarted by pesky, indigenous house elfs? Will they ever encounter the elusive Harry Potter or will they just be stuck with more singing Pottery?! The answers to these questions and more will be found in the upcoming installment! 


	2. Stupid Staircases

  
Crabbe and Goyle had redirected themselves to the kitchen. Now they reached it during that busy two-hour period before dinner was to be served. House elves were bustling around noisily. Crabbe and Goyle paused at the doorway and peeked in.  
"Looks busy today."  
"Yep."  
"Plan 2."  
"Sure." They walked into the kitchen slowly, wearing their very best confused expressions.  
An old and unusually tall house elf (he almost reached waist level on Crabbe, who was the taller of the two) confronted them. "What is you students doing here?" he demanded.  
"Uhhhh," drawled Goyle.  
"We're lost and hungry," said Crabbe, scratching his head aimlessly.  
The house elf did not look impressed. "Wasn't you two 'lost' here LAST WEEK?"  
"It's easy to get lost," said Crabbe, pouting.  
"especially for us," added Goyle with a grunt. His eyes looked particularly dull and beady.  
"and it smells so good here. What are you cooking?" asked Crabbe, looking around vaguely.  
"NOTHING FOR YOU SIRS!" said the house elf. "You best be leaving!"  
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged the "Plan 3" glance.  
"But I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse! - OR A HOUSE ELF!!" threatened Crabbe, his voice suddenly deep and menacing. He seized the tall elf and lifted him effortlessly to eye level.  
"PUT RANDOLPH DOWN SIR!!"  
"Randolph - that's an odd name for a house elf, isn't it?" Crabbe asked conversationally, turning to Goyle, who gave him a prompting look in return. "I MEAN - I WONDER HOW HOUSE ELVES TASTE!?" he bellowed.  
"BETTER WITH BUTTER, HUH, HUH!" snorted Goyle.   
The remaining house elves watched in horror as Randolph continued his struggles, and Goyle began to expound upon the rare delicacy of House Elf.  
"..AND BRISKLY SAUTEED WITH A LIGHT MOSELLE - THEY ARE TO DIE FOR!" he went on, still in Threatening Goyle™ mode, but clearly on a roll. Crabbe tried to keep a straight face.  
"MAYBE WE WON'T HAVE TO GO THROUGH ALL THAT PREPARATION IF THESE OTHER TASTY- I MEAN - NICE ELVES WOULD KINDLY GET US SOME SANDWICHES!" Crabbe announced.  
The house elves took the hint. Soon Crabbe and Goyle were back in the main hallway with two generous roast beef sandwiches.  
"Now I can think straight," said Crabbe satisfactorily.  
"Let's not get too optimistic."  
"Heh"  
"We could ride the staircases while we eat."  
"All right."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"I love these staircases," announced Crabbe as they sat on one which continued to move leisurely back and forth between two opposite overhangs.  
"Yep," Goyle munched on his sandwich. "Like an amusement park."  
"Hey, make it go faster."  
"No, I don't want to get sick." said Goyle simply. "Besides, I don't know the spell to make a staircase go faster."  
"You can make it up."  
"No better than you. And I'd rather watch," answered Goyle, removing himself to a stationary overhang and settling down for a show.  
"Hmph. Well it's easy enough to make up a spell. Malfoy does it all the time and pretends he's not." Crabbe stood up and straightened his robes. "Let's see then," He pulled out his wand and pointed it threateningly at his staircase, which continued contentedly to move back and forth. "Accelerando!" he cried. Nothing.  
"That's Italian, stupid," Goyle informed between munches.  
Crabbe tried to muster as much dignity as he could. "I was being facetious," he said petulantly.  
"You need Latin, and don't forget to say it in italics," called Goyle from his safe perch.  
Crabbe nodded and turned his attention back to the staircase. He held up his wand rather primly; it looked especially silly in his overgrown hand. "Yes, Latin.. ahem-" Having thought of an appropriate-sounding word, he now inflected his already deep voice with some sort of authority. _"Praerapidus!...."_ No, that was too short to be a decent spell. Best start over. _"Praerapidus mobilus - A UM!"_ The staircase began to lurch back and forth wildly. Crabbe lost his balance and grabbed onto the railing for dear life. Goyle spit out his mouthful so as to laugh more obnoxiously.  
"None of that raucous laughter - this is dangerous!" bellowed Crabbe.  
"Stop it then!"  
"Uh - _STRIGO_-.. uh -_ARE_ .. _Obstructo-rus!? -ResistooooOOAA!"_ He nearly toppled over the banister, _"A---Subsistare a--?? ad HOC?! Ad nauseam?????"  
_ Goyle roared with laughter, "That's why I'm not on there with you! the nausea!!"  
Crabbe glared as best he could, although the staircase was now spinning around in circles in addition to flying back and forth. He decided to make a dash for it and leap to safety. (Spell casting seemed more dangerous than that, momentarily at least.) He stumbled towards an end of the staircase.  
"Good," directed Goyle. "Now jump. I'll help." He stood up, ready to lend a hand if necessary.  
"Put down the sandwich first!!!!"  
"Oh..right.... Ok, GO!!"  
Crabbe shut his eyes and jumped, arms outstretched. There was only a moment of uncertainty before Goyle grabbed him and pulled him to safety.  
"Ok," said Goyle, sitting back down to finish his sandwich.  
"That was... uh.. kind of rough," said Crabbe, rubbing his temples.  
"Yes." Goyle pulled out his wand in the other hand. "_Impedimenta_," he said to the staircase. It slowed and stopped politely.  
Crabbe glared at him. "All right..hmph. But we're not telling Malfoy about this little episode."  
"'Course not. But we should visit him sometime."  
"After you write your poem."   
"We'll prank the Gryffindors then."  
"That's what I thought."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Back in the Slytherin common room, Crabbe and Goyle took their usual seats before the fireplace. There was an empty chair between them, which they would look at forlornly from time to time throughout their conversation. For the most part, though, they were occupied with devising a prank.  
"Potions?"  
"Too Boring."  
"Love notes?"  
"Too Dangerous."  
"Hexed Broomsticks?"  
"Too Obvious."  
"Leather and Stiletto Heels?"   
Goyle paused. "Too '80s."  
"Just making sure you were alive."  
They were interrupted by a chipper voice that they recognized only too well. The stumpy and square-jawed Pansy Parkinson marched into the common room. "What were you guys talking about?? All I heard was stiletto heels!"  
Another quick exchange. "Well.. we overheard Professor McGonagall in the hall-"  
"WHAT!"  
"Gregory means that we were just joking," corrected Crabbe.  
Pansy sat down in the seat between them. Crabbe frowned ever so slightly. "So I guess you guys know about Draco," she sighed.  
"Yeah, out for a week."  
"I don't know how you guys are going to deal with that - I mean, I don't spend half as much time around him and I'm already feeling the loss!" She put her hand to her heart melodramatically.   
Goyle and Crabbe glanced at each other over her head.   
Crabbe grinned. "Dear Gregory here is writing him a poem." ("Poem" had two syllables.)  
"Oh, that's nice!"  
"You keep going on about that poem so much, Vincent, I am beginning to think you want me to write it for you, not Draco," said Goyle.  
Pansy couldn't quite figure out how to interpret that one. "So..what's it about?"  
"Impending disaster," Goyle answered nonchalantly.  
"Gregory, that is not going to cheer him up!" said Pansy sternly.   
"Ohh, that's a good thought. Maybe you should write him a cheerful one," said Goyle.  
"Yes! sometimes you can be such a blockhead!" she cried in exasperation. "But... Now that you mention it, I think I would be more capable than you of writing a cheerful poem. I'll go do it now." She hurried off to her room.   
"Good," announced Goyle.   
"And I don't want any of your silly poetry."  
"Heh."  
Crabbe grinned. "And I'm hungry again too."  
"Malfoy was right. We are going to sit in the Slytherin common room and eat all day, aren't we?"  
"I'm not giving up without a fight," answered Crabbe sternly. "And that's exactly why I need another snack."  
  
Will our heros EVER get off their behinds and prank the Gryffindors, or will they give in to their culinary urges and eat ALL DAY? (Hopefully not, as that can only be so exciting) OR WILL PANSY PARKINSON USURP THEIR PLACE AT DRACO'S SIDE? stay tuned... 


	3. Allergic and Kneejerk Reactions

The next day began surrealistically enough with Malfoy still out of the picture. Pansy Parkinson was now clinging to Crabbe and Goyleand asking them questions about his old habits and bemoaning the loss as if the boy had actually died. Goyle suggested that Pansy "write the elegy in history class," at which point she smacked him upside the head and told him not to be dense.

"He's not actually DEAD, you know!" she said as they walked to history class.

"Maybe I meant eulogy" said Goyle vaguely.

"SAME THING!"

"I think we need a bathroom break," announced Crabbe, and he pulled Goyle into the boy's restroom on the floor.

"See you at class!" Pansy went on. "Stupid boys," she murmured to herself.

Meanwhile in the bathroom:

"Crabbe," Goyle put his hand on his friend's shoulder for support. "I dont think I have the moral strength to get through history class today."

"Yeah, let's skip and see how Malfoy is."

"Dare I enter his presence without the promised poem?"

"Improvise it if you have to."

"Fine."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was glad to see Crabbe and Goyle, and although she was aware they had to be skipping class, she was glad for people to distract Malfoy from his continual whining ("who brought me lilies? don't these people know I can't stand the smell of lilies? I don't even like the name Lily!"). She showed them to him and disappeared.

"Who's there?" croaked Malfoy, who was bandaged as thickly as ever. His voice sounded weaker than it had yesterday.

"Just us," said Goyle, as they sat on his bed on either side.

"Ah, skipping history to see me?" the voice back to normal immediately.

"Seeing you to skip history," corrected Crabbe as he inspected the area. Someone had left a vase of white lilies on the bedside table.

"Do you know who visited me today?" asked Malfoy primly.

"The florist?"

"Guess again."

"Pansy?"

"Not yet."

"I give up," said Crabbe.

"Professor Snape!"

"I hope he didn't bring those flowers," said Crabbe.

"No! I don't know who did and when I find out, they're in trouble.. I hate lilies!" He tried to fold his arms, but the contact was too much for his burns, even with the bandages, and he wound up jerking his arms away from each other- into the companions on his either side.

"OOOWW!"

"Don't hit me!" Crabbe grunted.

"I didn't mean -- oowww, burns are the worst sort of injury!"

"So what did Snape want?" asked Goyle.

"Oh - er.. To yell at me for messing up our potion - and to tell me to recuperate by Saturday's Quidditch match!"

"He wants you to beat Potter," announced Goyle.

"Speaking of which, did you guys prank them yesterday?"

"Uhh... Not yet.."

"Fools." It was a knee-jerk reaction by now, and Crabbe and Goyle were so used to it that they didn't even bother to shrug it off.

"But we are going to," said Crabbe.

"Sure. And what about that poem then, Goyle?" Malfoy gave the distinct impression of being bored half to death.

"Uh - not done that either," he answered.

"What did you fools DO yesterday?" cried Malfoy. "Oh - let me guess - you ATE!"

"Yes, but -"

"Crabbe got into a row with the staircases in the east wing," said Goyle off-handedly.

"What!"

"I thought we decided we weren't going to talk about that, Gregory." Crabbe glared sternly above Malfoy at Goyle. Goyle returned his best "Did We?" look.

"Why don't you get into a row with those bloody lilies and throw them out before I start an allergic reaction here," said Malfoy. "I'd do it myself but my hands are all bandaged up and everything hurts - " he sniffled pathetically.

Goyle picked up the vase and held it toward Crabbe. "Pretend it's aTap-on Tap-off flower arrangement," he said. Lily pollen wafted down to Malfoy.

"AHHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOOO! ARGH oHhhhhhh! PAIN!" he groaned from the convulsion.

"Sometimes you really are a blockhead!" Crabbe said triumphantly, as Goyle stumbled over to the window and threw out the offending vase.

"I don't even want to KNOW what you idiots are doing up there!" Malfoy hissed. He sniffled violently.

"We should probably go -"

"back to history class-"

"-to lunch early?"

"Ok."

"JUST GO before one of you kills me!" cried Malfoy. "And find out who sent me those lilies and beat them up!"

An alarmed Madam Pomfrey came to the bed. "What's all this ruckus?"

"Oh, Draco's just allergic to lilies," said Goyle.

* * *

The afternoon passed without further incident. Dinner in the Great Hall proved to be a good time to plot, since Pansy was inexplicably missing throughout the meal.

"It has to be in a classroom, because we can't get into their common room."

"Not necessarily - what about flying? could we get in through the windows?"

"I guess we'll have to investigate. Can't we just pay off someone to let us in?"

"With whose money?"

"Draco's."

"mm, I like that idea."

"But flying is more adventurous."

"True." They were suddenly aware of a presence behind them. Crabbe turned clumsily and found Pansy Parkinson's pug face inches from his..

"Uh, Hi Pansy."

"YOU GUYS DIDN'T TELL ME DRACO WAS ALLERGIC TO LILIES!" Other Slytherin students turned in concern.

"Isn't everyone?" asked Goyle.

"AGH! You are such idiots!" she sat down in exhausted rage. "Now he's all mad at me."

"Truly I pity you, Pansy," said Goyle, "To lose the affections of one we love is indeed one of life's most difficult-"

Pansy glared at them. "Forget it - I'm going to talk to Blaise. You two are no help!" With no further adieu, she jumped up and moved down the table to sit with Blaise Zabini. Crabbe and Goyle watched curiously.

"We should probably set them back up again," said Goyle with a sigh.

"But I don't want to play matchmaker."

"Yes, but you know how it is when they're bickering." Crabbe shuddered; the remembrance of their last argument was enough to encourage anyone to go into match-making. Draco had called Pansy a "pudge-faced, bossy little twat," in response to which she set off an earth-quaking spell in the middle of the Slytherin common room. Luckily Snape had arrived in time to prevent anyone from falling into the gigantic crevasse threatening to engulf the fireplace.

Crabbe chewed thoughtfully. "Maybe they'll fix themselves when he gets better."

"I don't know. He really hates lilies."

"Heh. Stupid lilies."

"Maybe we can do that after the Potter prank. Let's go get our broomsticks."

"What - we just ate!" protested Crabbe.

"That guarantees that you won't get hungry halfway there."

* * *

After retrieving their broomsticks, Crabbe and Goyle headed to the nearest exit. Now that it was dark outside, they could easily sneak to the side of the castle where the tower containing the Gryffindor bedrooms overlooked the lake.

Crabbe looked up fearfully as the evening breeze rushed around the corner. "Has the tower gotten taller lately?"

"Er..Quite possibly," murmured Goyle. "Come on, it's now or never."

They mounted their broomsticks and rose toward the faint light flickering from one of the tower windows.

* * *

Will our heroes successfully infiltrate the Gryffindor common room? Will they ever amend the trouble sprouting from Pansy's lilies? Did the author really intend that terrible play on words? STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE! 


	4. Worst Fake Latin Ever

They reached the tower window with relatively little trouble. Climbing into the bedroom was another story..

"Uh, you go first," announced Crabbe as they hovered outside, "the coast is clear."

"It's not really a coast," muttered Goyle, trying to stick a beefy leg in through the open window. "It's more like a room... whoa--" a sudden gust of wind shook him and his leg. He lurched forward and fell into the room.

"Heh. That's one way to get in," observed Crabbe.

"Shut up. You're next." Goyle inspected the room as Crabbe attempted to climb through the window. Lots of beds, but that was to be expected in a bedroom. He walked over to a dresser and opened it - a pink sock flew out at him, singing in an obnoxious nasal voice.

_"It's a jolly holiday at Hogwarts--"_

"Shut that thing up!" yelled Crabbe.

"Uh -" Goyle swatted at the sock as it whizzed around his head. "Shhh!" He grabbed it and shoved it back in the drawer, slamming it closed. "Ok.. I guess this is a girls' bedroom. But who has singing pink socks?"

Crabbe tumbled into the room. "I bet Ron Weasley does."

"Well, there goes that prank idea."

"Yeah," Crabbe stood and brushed himself off. "So... " They stood there recovering from the sock attack. "What were we going to do again?"

"Something about stiletto heels?"

"I thought that was too '80s."

"I suppose you know some good hexes?"

"That's usually Draco's job."

"He shouldn't have used the red."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of voices coming from the stairs. "I swear I heard Jeanette singing! Who let her out?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, wide-eyed. "Hide!" They stumbled to the nearest closet and flung themselves inside. Of course the three broomsticks that were leaning there toppled into them. "Shhhh!" They crouched down and listened.

The girls must have entered the room, because their voices had became much louder. "I wonder who could have done this?" footsteps stopped, followed by the sound of the drawer being pulled open again.

_"It's raining men! OOOOO it's raining men!"_

"Jeanette knows the strangest songs."

Crabbe frowned in the dark closet. "Jeanette - sorry name for a singing sock, don't you think?"

"I dont know, it's kind of different."

"From what - the usual singing sock name?"

"Shut up--" They froze as the closet door swung open. Parvati Pavil and Lavender Brown stood on the other side, staring at them like small rabbits discovering a fox hole.

"AHHHHHH!"

Crabbe and Goyle shrugged, then turned on their most threatening expressions. "ROOOAAARR!" Crabbe lunged forward, although unfortunately for the effect, he tripped on one of the fallen broomsticks and toppled into Lavender Brown.

"HE'S GOT ME! HELP! DO SOMETHING!"

Crabbe was appalled as the girl spit on him inadvertantly. "HEY!" He struggled to stand -

Goyle stepped forward, wand raised - he glanced to Parvati Patil, who ran to the door.. "uhh... hm... " he yelled the first spell that came to mind. "_Impedimenta_!" and she froze and tipped over like a stone statue. "I didnt know that worked so well on people.." Goyle mused..

"HELLPPPPPP!"

"STOP SPITTING ON ME!"

"OR HE'LL EAT YOU!" bellowed Goyle. Then he realized that yelling in a Gryffindor bedroom was probably not the best way to keep a secret mission secret.. He grabbed Crabbe by the collar and pulled him back, keeping his wand aimed at Lavender all the while. "OK. - grrrrr," he added as an afterthought.

Lavender glared at them, eyes flashing in a stereotypically defiant manner. "You'll never get away with this!"

"Maybe she knows what we're doing," said Goyle conversationally.

"Yeah... " Crabbe was still trying to catch his breath. "Let's just prank her and get it over with."

"Ok... uhm... "

Lavender glanced about, but her wand had disappeared in the struggle with Crabbe. "Just wait until my friends come--"

"No, that would be dumb," Crabbe turned to Goyle. "What about that new spell Draco was learning?"

"That was a hair care spell, idiot."

"So?" The idea of casting a hair care spell on a Gryffindor as a prank slowly took form in their heads -- they looked back at Lavender, whose long hair was a rich, luxurious shade of brown. Crabbe grinned. "Ok, what was it?"

"Uhh... plati..something.."

"_Platiposus_-"

"No, that's an animal"

"Shut up--"

They heard rushed foosteps from the staircase. "Who's there?"

"Uh oh."

Goyle frowned in concentration.. "Ok..._ PLATILUMOS CAPILLUS_!" The wand seemed to stutter, then suddenly shot out a silver-white beam of light which covered Lavender's hair and immediately turned it the color of Draco's.

"What! that was the worst fake Latin I've ever heard you --"

"No time for that!"

"MY HAIRRR! AHHHHHH! I LOOK LIKE A MALFOY!" Lavender screamed in horror.

"Run!" Crabbe and Goyle dashed to the window and jumped out, hanging onto their still-hovering broomsticks as they zoomed to the ground.

Back inside Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter reached the bedroom just in time to see the two Slytherins disappearing out the window.

"What in the world? Was that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle?" asked Hermione.

"THEY TURNED MY HAIR INTO MALFOY HAIR!"

* * *

Hours later, Goyle and Crabbe were back in the comfort of the Slythering common room, having just pilfered some snacks from the kitchen. They stared complacently into the fireplace. 

"Vincent," said Goyle suddenly.

"Hm?"

"I'm not sure how we're going to explain this prank to Draco."

"What? just tell him what happened."

"Yeah, I got attacked by a singing sock. And we turned Lavender Brown's hair the same color as Draco's. And then we ran away. I don't think he will find that very funny."

"Least you didn't get spit on," mumbled Crabbe. "Stupid Gryffindors."

They were interrupted again by Pansy Parkinson, who parked herself moodily between them on the couch. "Draco's still mad at me," she announced. "So did you guys do the prank?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked to each other.

"Uh.. yeah, somewhat.." began Crabbe.

"You could say that," added Goyle.

"You guys are so dumb," she said as a matter of fact, "How do you ever get anything done? What did you do?"

"We... infiltrated a girl's bedroom in the Gryffindor tower and .. uh.."

"We changed Lavender Brown's hair color."

"What kind of stupid prank is that?" although Pansy didn't seem particularly upset. She had other things on her mind. "If you guys really want to be helpful, you can help me get back on Draco's good side."

"I don't know if _we're _going to be on Draco's good side once he figures out we used his favorite hair care spell to do it," said Goyle.

Pansy regarded him quietly for a moment. "Ok... maybe all three of us can plan something for tomorrow."

Crabbe sighed, "As long as it doesn't involve staircases."

"Or lilies," added Pansy.

"Or singing socks."

* * *

Will our heros manage to get any work (eating) done with Pansy tagging along? Will they reconcile her and Draco? Or will Draco disown them all once he hears about the "prank"? STAY TUNED -  



End file.
